


The weird Misadventures of Laura in Middle Earth

by WeilIchsKann (Faryna)



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Dark, Gen, Humor, Modern Girl in Middle Earth, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tenth Walker, more tags would be spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-25 12:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4960210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faryna/pseuds/WeilIchsKann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting dropped into Middle-Earth is easy, right? Sign up as a 10th Walker, get Leggy to fall in love with you, melt down some evil jewelry, marry him. Piece of cake. That is, of course, until somewhere some stupid butterfly decides to bat its wings the wrong way, screwing all of Middle-Earth over in the process. There's no undo button in real life. Bookverse, later AU. Contains swearing. x-Post from FFnet</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Knights and Orcs

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Die verrückten Abenteuer der Laura Hoffmann in Mittelerde](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/149344) by WeilIchsKann. 



> Beta'd by FlatlinedGamer and somecleverphrase. Have fun, guys!

"Okay, guys!" Sebastian has to shout for his voice to be heard over the general chaos filling the camp, but it doesn't help much. The people surrounding us keep doing whatever they were doing and simply ignore their captain. I watch with a grin as the young man lets out a frustrated growl and climbs upon a barrel to try again, this time even louder. "Everyone! Shut up and listen!" The people closest to Sebastian's barrel turn to face him and slowly the noise of the group of fifty people dies down.

"Thank you," he mutters when the clattering of armor has finally stopped. With a glare at a group of Roman soldiers that still haven't stopped talking, he continues. "Anyway... The plan goes as follows: We're gonna move out in half an hour and meet up with the treehuggers at the big Clearing. After that we'll move to the Meadow together and kick some orc asses!" Sebastian draws his sword and points it skyward. That move might have looked awesome and epic, if the sword hadn't been a stick wrapped in foam. Also the jeans and t-shirt peeking out from under his armor make the whole thing look quite anticlimactic. Not that I'm looking any better.

But nobody cares about those kinds of details and Sebastian's elaborate battle plan is met with a roar of approval from the rest of the camp. "Treehuggers?" Mark, one of my friends shoots me a questioning glance, while Sebastian jumps down from his barrel.

"He means Elves."

"Ohh."

As opposed to most of the weekend warriors, Mark, Sebastian and I are already wearing our armor. The reason for that is probably Sebastian, who had kicked us out of bed way too early and had proceeded to bore us out of our minds with long winded explanations on orc battle strategies. In the end a Roman captain had managed to wrap the hour long talk up in one short and quite beautiful sentence: Charge and kill shit.

Anyway, right now we are standing in the middle of the muddy campground, while a bunch of half dressed players are trying to get their gear together around us. And from what I had heard earlier, we are already about an hour behind schedule for the final battle.

This is my first LARP ever. Sebastian is the one who is into this kind of stuff, and now, after months of failed attempts to bribe Mark and me, he and his friends finally managed to drag us both into one of these events. The bribe had been cookies, a butt-load of food, and doing our math homework for the remainder of the semester. They had agreed to our terms and here we are. The guys had even given us some basic gear, which was really nice of them: ring mail, helmets, shin and forearm guards and, of course, swords. No real swords, mind you. We don't want to slice people to pieces, after all. I had even managed to get my hands on a wool cloak beforehand.

Luckily no one cares about the t-shirts or sneakers we are wearing under the medieval stuff. Considering the amount of people who had been walking around the camp while typing away on their iPhones, that didn't come as much of a surprise. But to be honest, all these dressed up people looked quite impressive. Not as much as the orcs, who have really awesome armor and masks and everything. But still, I wouldn't want to run into the Roman guys at night in a dark ally.

Sebastian has finally managed to elbow his way through the crowd and is jogging towards us. "Ready to kick these bastards' asses?," he asks with a huge grin plastered onto his face.

"Yeah, sure." An equally big grin spreads on my face while Mark nods his consent beside me. From what I have heard, the Orc Camp won the final battle for the last four years. This time however, the Elven, Human, and Dwarven Camps forged an alliance to finally end the Orc Camp's reign.

By now a slowly growing group of warriors is gathering at the gate (which is really a gap in the rope that marks the Human Camp's borders). There are still some people running around and searching for whatever gear they are lacking, but it seems like everyone is going to be ready in about a few minute's time. Finally!

We make our way to the gate while Sebastian rambles on about his strategy. I am not really listening. From what I have heard, the battle will most likely dissolve into a bunch of one vs one fights sooner or later. Plus by now I have listened to the whole thing about four times. And those are only the in-game times.

It takes about ten minutes for everyone to finally get dressed. Mark and I have taken guesses on what is taking people so long. We gave up, however, when I heard someone ask something along the lines of 'do I look fat in this armor?'.

After Sebastian has made sure that everyone has cleared out of the camp, we get moving. Everyone is looking forward to the final battle, especially now that we stand a chance against these bastard orcs. Most people are chatting idly until someone somewhere starts singing. It sounds a bit like one of the Hobbit credit songs, but with no one hitting the right notes, guessing becomes rather difficult. It is still better than the Latin crap some of the Romans sang until some Chaos Mage threatened to turn them into frogs until the LARP ended.

That shut them up. It had also earned the Chaos Mage the eternal gratitude of everyone else in the Human Camp.

The meeting point isn't far away from our camp – ten minutes at best – but I still start sweating before it even comes into view. The day has become surprisingly warm for the middle of October and I am slowly starting to regret taking the cloak with me. The heavy mail shirt isn't helping either.

About twenty elves are chilling in the clearing, most of them have taken seats around a group of wooden picnic tables in the middle of it. They are mostly armed with bows and dressed in green or brown. I also spy a ton of wigs and glue-on ears. Their leader, a guy with a blond longhair wig, green tights and weird looking fairy wings on his back, gets up to greet us as soon as we step out of the forest.

Wig-Legolas, as I decide to dub the Elven captain, starts talking in what must be Elvish. As soon as he falls silent, Sebastian steps forward and greets him with a broad gin and a simple "Hey, mate."

The Elf gives him an are-you-serious look, but continues anyway, this time in English. "So you finally chose to join us, mortals?"

"Yeah... Well, we had some trouble back at the camp. Sorry for being late, man." Sebastian gestures in the direction of the camp and shrugs. Wig-Legolas just gives a sigh and an eye roll before motioning at his army to get up and take their places next to us.

From the picnic area it's another five minute walk until we reach the Meadow where the final battle against the orcs is going to take place. Most of the march there is spent talking with the Elves, except for wig-Legolas, who still seems to be a bit miffed. But really, after four days it feels really good to talk to guys from other camps. Well, I for one had a few chances to talk to the Elves as I had been hanging out with Sebastian most of the time, but some of the others barely had that opportunity.

We hear the dwarves and orcs long before we see them. There seems to be a trash talk competition going on between the two armies, and from the angry orcish curses echoing through the trees I guess that the dwarves are winning. There is of course laughter mixed in – mostly after someone cracks an especially hilarious Yo Mama joke, so it is all good natured.

When I step out onto the field, I am greeted with the sight of about two hundred orcs on the one side and maybe fifty dwarves on the other. There are also a bunch of game masters in bright orange shirts running around and some medics are sitting on the grass a few steps away from a big table loaded with bottled water.

We take our places next to the dwarves while I am still wondering where the Game Masters get all these awesome looking orcs. Like, really. These guys are easily wearing the best costumes I have ever seen. They might be even up to par with the stuff the Uruks wore in the Lord of the Rings movies. Their armor is gleaming in the sunlight and the same goes for the tips of their spears and swords. All in all it is a scary sight.

Or it would be, if we all hadn't been sure that the weapons met every single required safety regulation.

I end up at the right flank, next to a bunch of dwarves with huge axes and equally huge beards. The beards look quite real, the axes... not so much. Plus most of the dwarves are taller than me. I try to get a good look at the orcs over their shoulders, but am met with a wall of heads, even more shoulders, and spear shafts. Aww man.

I can, however, hear the shouts of the orcs. Even their voice acting is scary good. They sound like what I would imagine real orcs to sound like. Sadly, they don't sport the epic British accents. That would have been hilarious.

Mark positions next to me while the Elven archers take positions behind the combined dwarf/human army. It takes about another five minutes of shouting and shuffling around until the Game Masters finally give the signal to get ready. I draw my sword and take a deep breath. Even though this is just a game, the thought of having a metric ton of orc players charging at our position kind of scares me a bit.

Then somebody shouts "For Middle-Earth!" and everyone sprints forward, Mark and I included. That battle cry is taken up by most. A few others are shouting in Elvish or some other languages I can't identify over the general chaos. From there on it takes about five seconds for shit to hit the fan. The orcs are banging their weapons against their shields while running and scream in their crazy good orc voices.

However, as soon as the groups of players collide, panicked screams erupt from the rows in front of me and the charge comes to a sudden halt. I nearly slam into the back of the guy in front of me, when everyone suddenly stops and starts moving backward. Mark and I are standing in the fourth row, so we don't immediately see what's going on. I can hear some of the Game Masters shouting into their megaphones, but the general noise drowns out whatever they are saying.

People behind us seem to have noticed that something is wrong and everyone starts to retreat towards the forest. At some point people are even shouting 'retreat!'. It looks like whoever took command actually managed to organize an ordered retreat, but before I get the chance to turn and run away from whatever the hell is going on, one of the dwarves in front of me crumples on the ground and reveals a group of dudes with the most real looking orc-masks ever: greyish, scarred skin, yellow eyes, and rows of teeth that appear to haven been sharpened.

The... creatures – I am at that point pretty sure that these guys are not our orc players – are smelling worse than anything I ever had the misfortune to smell. Like a mixture of three week old roadkill, my grandma's fridge, public toilet, and old sports socks. I'm about to throw up then and there, when I notice the blood dripping from their weapons.

For some reason this whole scenes reminds me of that one movie with Peter Dinklage and that crazy ex-girlfriend demon, that a friend of mine pirated a week ago... Right. Priorities.

What does one do when three murderous looking orcs with bloody swords are coming towards you? Run.

What do I do? "What the flying fuck, man!" I just stare at them in utter shock. When one of them jumps forward with a loud screech – yes, sometimes orcs do apparently screech – I manage to stumble back just in time for its sword to miss my nose.

Mark grabs my arm and drags me backward, away from the battle, but the orcs are hot on our heals. People and monsters are running around everywhere and I have to watch where I'm going to not trip on a corpse or injured dude. An Elf sprints past me but gets cut down by a brutal sword-slash. The orcs catch up to us when we are only a few steps away from the forest surrounding the Meadow.

Both of us are by now drenched in sweat and gasping for air. Running for your life in ring mail is not the greatest idea if you have the stamina of a lazy-ass gamer. The orc closest to us swings his sword at me. I manage to get the LARP sword up in time to block the blow clumsily. Orcs might be incredible bad at sword fighting, that however, is not much of an advantage when you are about as bad as them. Right next to me Mark has obviously kicked one of the orcs in the balls and, while the creature crumpled a bit, has given it a nice head-shot with the sword. My orc attacks once more, but this time his blow cuts right through the LARP sword.

Well, that's Fiberglas and foam for you, I guess. I stare at the broken stick for a second, before I quickly take another step back to get out of the orc's range. But my foot doesn't step onto grass. Instead there is just thin air. Too late I remember the steep hillside on one side of the Meadow. Well, crap.

There is no way I can keep my balance. With a surprised shout I fall backwards, thankfully avoiding most of the orc's attack. His sword still manages to rip through the cheap mail and leaves an aching scratch on my right arm. In the same moment I see one of the two orcs that were attacking Mark run him through with its blade. All of this happens in probably under a second, than Mark and the orcs vanish from my field of vision while I roll down the hillside.

This is the point were things started to go downhill in my life. Quite literally, actually. But before we get into all of that, let me introduce myself.

The name is Laura. Laura Hoffmann, if you want to be precise. But seriously, where we are going, no one cares about last names anyway. At least as long as you aren't a hobbit or a dude from Bree or it's something cool like Elessar, but we will get to that.

Before the shit hit the fan I had been your typical college student. Well, the lazy, gaming, pizza munching kind. I had been two semesters away from finishing my computer science Bachelor and was looking forward to enrolling at a different university to get the Master's degree.

Apart from that? Well, I managed to turn 22 without even getting remotely close to having a boyfriend and spent way too much time playing LoL, Skyrim and whatever other games looked even slightly interesting to me. Same goes for books and movies. While everyone else was out at the club, you would have most likely found me in front of a computer watching Netflix or playing games.

What else is there to tell about me? That I am afraid of dogs and have a little sister? Well, I could probably fill a book with the unimportant details of my life, but that would be quite boring and would not help you understand this story in the slightest. Let's just get on with it and skip to the part of my life where I ended up hip deep in Middle Earth and fucked up the entire canon, alright?


	2. A very random Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by FlatlinedGamer

My fall down the hillside ends abruptly when I land in a pile of dry autumn leaves. What the fuck just happened? I replay the events of the last five minutes in my head, unable to come up with a logical explanation. Well... Except one: Maybe someone knocked me out and I ended up dreaming some weird-ass bullshit. That would work. Well, kind of. I normally don't realize that I'm dreaming and the cut on my arm feels pretty real. As do the twenty other bruises I collected while rolling down the freaking slope.

I lie in the pile of leaves, still unsure what to do next. On the one hand my brain is telling me to run away and get as much distance between me and these crazy orcs as possible. On the other hand Mark is somewhere up there with a sword stuck in his gut and I can't just leave him. We are friends after all. But before I make a decision I notice something else. Or, better, the lack of something.

The fall wasn't very long, but for some reason the only noise I can hear right now is the rustling of leaves in a light breeze and the chirping of a bird. What the hell? I should be able to hear at least a bit of what is going on in the Meadow, right? I close my eyes and concentrate, but there's still nothing. Well, that's strange.

I get up and curse under my breath. My limbs feel like I crashed into every tree and stone there is on the way down. I'll probably look like a freaking Dalmatian tomorrow. Luckily the cut on my arm isn't bleeding too badly and doesn't seem to be very deep either, so I'll just leave it for now. Though, I should get it checked out once I get back to... civilization. Yeah, whatever.

The hill is, as I had guessed, quite steep but the forest is not as dense as I had first thought. However... I pause and look around. Something is wrong. When Sebastian had explained his strategy for the first time, there had been a map of the surroundings on the table. That map had clearly shown a broad, frequently used road at the foot of this slope. The sight I'm greeted with is something completely different. A narrow path, overgrown and, from its looks, rarely in use.

Well, that's odd. I only had a short glance on the map and my attention had been focused on the battlefield. Maybe I just overlooked this path? I decide to try to get back to my friends. It has been enough time for someone to call 911 and the police will probably have arrived by now. So it should in theory be safe to get back there.

I'm an okay climber, so I should be able to get up there quite easily. With a shrug I start to clamber up the hill, but after a few meters the earth I had placed my feet on gives way and I slide back down. Crap. Two failed tries later I curse silently and give up. Pissed I kick the nearest tree. Said tree turns out to be a lot harder than my foot, causing me to drop another cluster F-Bomb.

Today is certainly not my best day.

Maybe there is a way from here to the Meadow, but I can't remember Sebastian's map well enough. Damn. The best course of action is probably to walk down the path to find a better, climbable point. And that is exactly what I do. I pick a direction at random and walk down the path as quickly as possible. The armor is slowing me down but I don't really want to discard it. After all, these orcs or monsters or whatever could be still here. Not that the cheap ring-mail I am wearing would help much. But it is better than nothing.

After ten minutes of walking no other path or a better climbable slope presents itself. I turn around with a sigh and try the other direction. I mean, come on! There has to be a way up there! I look up to the sky. It has to be around midday by now and it has gotten even warmer. I am really regretting having brought that cloak.

I am legging it through a forest, not having planned any further than 'reach the battlefield and see what's going on', dirty, splattered with blood that isn't mine, worried, and increasingly pissed. Great. Freaking awesome.

I'm so busy being pissed that I don't notice the person riding towards me until his shadow falls on me. What I see when I look up to him is one more thing to add to the list of weird shit I have seen today. The gray horse the dude is sitting on is gigantic. The dude himself is clad in leather and fur with some ring-mail thrown in for good measure. He also carries a sword and looks like he hasn't seen a shower in weeks. It's close to impossible to guess what his natural hair color might have been, but I'll take my chances and call it a dark blonde or maybe brown.

The guy doesn't look like anyone I have seen in the Human Camp and I don't remember anyone mentioning bringing a horse to the event, but his gear sure looks impressive. Just like the orcs' gear. Maybe I should get the fuck away from here. However, he hasn't drawn his sword yet or killed me before I noticed him. Plus, the look he's giving me now is more curious than hostile.

So maybe there is another LARP or some reenactment stuff going on here? Anyway, I decide to take my chances and ask the dude for the way up the hill. If he's riding around here he might know how to get to the Meadow. I conveniently ignore the fact that I'm walking around without having any clue on how to get anywhere.

The rider slows down a bit once he's next to me and gives me a curious/worried once-over. That's not surprising as I must be looking like shit with all the blood and dirt on my clothing, but I still need directions. Here goes nothing. "Hi! Uhm, sorry, but do you know how to get to the clearing up there?" I point at the hill and in the general direction of the Meadow.

The dude steadies his horse next to me. He looks tired as hell. "Are you injured?" When I shake my head, he continues. "Follow the path. After about a quarter of a mile it takes a sharp turn to the right and leads up the hill." Ah, nice... wait, why is he measuring stuff in miles? We are in the middle of freaking Europe! No one uses that weird system here. I don't have a problem with converting miles to kilometers, don't get me wrong. After reading the Lord of the Rings for the second time I had taken the time to look up how to convert miles and kilometers. Plus, my dad and little sister had kept asking me to do the math for them when we were in the US for vacation. After three weeks of playing the human calculator (or Spock, as my dad had kept calling me), this stuff had become second nature. Maybe it's not as accurate as using a real calculator, because I'm using rounded values for my calculations, but one hell of a lot faster.

It's still kind of strange. I'm about to thank the guy, when he starts talking once more. "Pardon my asking, My Lady, what are you doing alone in the wild so far south from Imladris?"

Wait... What?

"Imlad-" I pause. Maybe I didn't catch the last word right, but to me it sounded a lot like the guy just asked what I was doing south of Rivendell.

The guy reads my confused and maybe shocked expression as incomprehension and quickly adds: "Rivendell, the home of Lord Elrond Half-elven." Okay, that doesn't make it any better, but at least I didn't misunderstand him. This conversation still got one hell of a lot weirder.

"Okay, look. I really appreciate the effort and everything, but can you go OOC for a sec?" Now the dude looks at me like I had grown a second head or started to talk Klingon or something. Seriously, what is with people today? "Never mind. Just forget I said that, alright?" He just nods. Anyway, I just have to get rid of this guy and be on my way. Might as well play along with him if that works better. "We were attacked by orcs and I have to find my friends. They might be hurt... or worse. So, if you'd excuse me, I'm in a bit of a hurry."

Sadly, my plan utterly fails. The dude jumps off his horse and draws the sword before quickly scanning our surroundings. I make sure to get out of the guy's range, because that blade looks freaking sharp. I think about making a run for it, but the dude has a horse and is about one and a half heads taller than I. Well... Let's hope he wants to use that sword against hypothetical orcs. Otherwise, I am most likely toast. I'd probably better not piss him off.

"Orcs! That is ill news. I heard about trouble in the north, but orcs leaving the mountains and ambushing travelers in the bright of day... This is truly ill news." He pauses and after a moment of thinking turns his horse around. "You should not wander the wild alone in dark times like these. I shall accompany you to that clearing, but I doubt you will find anything there." And with that he starts walking.

I hurry up to match the dude's walking speed and give him a confused look. "Why? There was a big, bloody battle half an hour ago. No one could have cleaned that up in such a short amount of time." I point at the blood on my ring-mail to get the point across. The dude furrows his brow and shoots it a disapproving look. Like, really. Chances are we will walk right into a large scale police operation or something. But whatever. As long as I get there without getting stabbed, that's fine by me.

"I can only tell you what I saw. There was no indication of a battle when I rode past that place." He shrugs. "My Lady, if you don't mind me asking... what was your destination before your company was attacked?"

Well, that's weird. Maybe the dude is wrong or saw the wrong clearing. That is at least the most logical explanation. There is no way in hell I could have imagined that fucked up battle. My brain might produce some strange things sometimes. But that? And his question... Hm. I am luckily quite good at improvising stuff, so that isn't much of a challenge. If this guy is that much of a Lord of the Rings nerd, fine. "Rivendell. We were on the way to Rivendell." There you go. Happy now?

"In this case I can offer you my assistance, for I too am on my way to Imladris with an errand. You may accompany me, if you wish." Man, this guy is good at talking Medieval.

"Right... Uhm, thanks." Chances are I will never have to fall back to that offer. But what if he's right, the paranoid part of my brain adds. If there really is no one? I would have loved to say 'bullshit, that's impossible', but real orcs had been impossible too until maybe an hour ago. So what if he is right? I could, of course, try to get back to the camp, but with the possibility of running into orcs in the woods... No thanks, I value my life. I also don't have a mobile with me, which sucks. So calling for help from here won't work. It's also quite a way from here to the nearest town or Autobahn, plus I have no idea how to get there.

Crap.

Okay. In the unlikely case that Sir Dude here is right and there really is no one and nothing at the clearing, I might as well go with him and check out that Rivendell place of his. Chances are they will have a phone or computer. I mean, it's not like he is on road to Middle-Earth Rivendell. It's most likely going to be some kind of inn or hotel or whatever where his reenactment-friends are chilling.

Wait... isn't that how all these horrible cliche horror movies start? But seeing how we got orcs running around the forest, the chances of running into a crazy serial killer in the same forest are technically nonexistent. In this case... screw it, the dude has a sword. If he is right I'm sure as fuck not going to go alone. That's how people die in these horrible cliche horror movies!

The way has taken a turn to the right and has by now climbed most of the hill. Right now it's running parallel to the cliff I fell off of earlier. All in all, it was quite a big detour and we must have walked about a kilometer by now. As I look around, I notice that the surroundings look kind of familiar. Looks like we are getting somewhere. As we draw closer to the Meadow, I start feeling tense. I doubt I'm ready to see whatever happened there. Especially if it includes seeing people I like dead, but I can't hear any sirens, screams, or even people talking. What the fuck?

A moment later we step out of the forest and into the sunlit Meadow. Or, well, a clearing that looks exactly like the Meadow. Trees, grass, bushes... everything looks the same. But there is no trace of blood or dead people or, really, anything out of the ordinary. Relief washes over me. After all, there is a chance that everyone else is alright and I have just taken a hard hit on the head or something... It makes sense. The orc incident, some dude telling me he is going to Rivendell... all of that is way too fucked up to be real. On the other hand I'm not so sure. All of this feels so real.

I take another look around, hoping to find something to tell me what's going on here. But there is nothing. Just a beautiful clearing in the middle of a sunlit forest, the wannabe-knight, his horse and me. Well then... "I'd like to accompany you to Rivendell, if you don't mind," I say with a flat voice. God, saying that out loud makes me sound plain crazy.

The dude looks down at me and says: "I am sorry I could not help you, my Lady." He sounds sincerely sorry as he says it. "But maybe the elves have received news of your companions and can help you find them, once we arrive at Imladris." Elves. Right.

"I sure hope so." After a short pause I add: "By the way, I'm Laura. And can you please stop that 'my Lady' crap?" If we are going to travel together, knowing each others' name sounds like a good idea. And that Lady stuff makes me feel really uncomfortable. It's not like I look lady-like with all that blood and dirt on me.

To be honest, it's not like I look lady-like, ever.

"That is a strange name," the dude comments. "I am Boromir of Gondor." He bows slightly.

I should get a bodyguard that is not Sean fucking Bean.

Plus this reminds me of all those incredibly cheesy fanfictions you come across when you go to the weird parts of the internet. The kind where squealing fangirls hook up with everything that has a heartbeat and isn't Gimli. And of course join the fellowship as a tenth member. Well, that last bit doesn't sound too bad. I mean, why not? After all, this is just some fucked up dream.

Chances are, I will wake up soon enough with a big freaking bump on my head before we even get close to Rivendell.


End file.
